Little Things: Spuffy
by lunalovespudding3
Summary: 100-word Spuffy drabbles based off one-word prompts. A variety of themes.
1. Chapter 1

**India**

It was during a project on India that Spike and Buffy first met.

They were juniors, but had managed to never meet. Spike had a wilful aura to him that warded people away. Buffy was the head cheerleader. He was feared; she was adored.

They were perfectly reluctant to work together. But over a month of library meetings, classes, and eventually going over to each others' houses, things changed - as they were likely to.

On the last day of the project, they kissed (finally, they both thought) over a map of India. And it was good - a start.

**Muse**

Buffy stumbled upon some poems in Spike's crypt, each describing a lovely woman, perfect in the poet's eyes.

She loved them. They were beautiful, passionate - and, she realized, about her.

When she asked him about it, he blushed. Actually blushed.

"You weren't meant t'see those," he mumbled. "I was a poet as a human. A bloody awful one. Was called William the Bloody."

Buffy touched his arm and smiled. "I love them."

Spike snorted. "Yeah, well, a poet's only as good as 'is muse. I was like a puppy. Got myself a right good one now. A real one."

**Wrong**

Buffy lay back, Spike asleep next to her after another of their trysts.

I have to stop, she thought. I can't keep doing this. I'm just giving him hope. Nothing will ever happen - She stopped. Something had happened. Was happening. I don't feel anything for him. This is just catharsis.

He stirred in his sleep, but Buffy didn't react. What am I doing? I hate this. I hate him. But she couldn't bring herself to believe it. She cared about him.

He's not a monster. She recalled everything he'd done for Dawn.

I feel wrong otherwise. This feels right.

**Key**

Buffy was the key to his sanity. He lost it for her, going through torture to get a soul so she could love him.

To be hers.

Then she had finally found him, and he became whole again. But he acted the same, because she would run from him if he showed any real love. She always ran from real love.

To be loved by her.

Finally, she said it. But it was a goodbye. She didn't mean it.

I love you.

No, you don't. But thanks for saying it.

She was the key to his destruction, and his salvation.

**Trap**

He held her, trapped under the weight of his body. Ferociously kissing her, her heart beating fast enough for the both of them. Buffy usually hated being trapped, hated being useless. But this - this was so different.

She loved this. She dug her fingers into his hips, just to make sure he knew that she never relinquished control, even while trapped.

Spike nipped at her lip, not quite hard enough to draw blood - and she scratched his back, leaving eight parallel scratches that faded fast. He grinned against her mouth; he loved their back-and-forth. They both did.

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**I have enough prompts for six weeks, so I don't need anything else for now. I'm also doing this for a variety of ships, so check around. Updates Sundays, starting 2/9.  
Review with opinions, criticism, death threats...**


	2. Chapter 2

**Cake**

Although Spike never ate, he was very good at making cake.

Buffy suspected it had something to do with his days as a human (which he would tell her next to nothing of, save for he had a mother who was sick, and he wrote bad poetry).

But it didn't really matter where the skills came from. Buffy loved when he baked for her, especially knowing that it was just for her. She loved when he would wake her up with breakfast in bed (which happened surprisingly often), and she loved him with all her heart. She really, truly did.

**Light**

Buffy and Spike woke up to a sliver of light. They blinked blearily for a moment before realizing: sunlight.

Buffy leapt out of bed to yank the curtain completely shut.

"I told you, we should've slept in my crypt," Spike mumbled. Buffy blushed.

He pulled Buffy back in the bed. "Luv, it's too early. 'm fine now. Come over here."

"Sleeping with a bloodsucker? I know, pet."

"Hey," Buffy said, "I don't mind. Really. I love you - you make sacrifices for love."

They were silent. "Love you too, my Goldilocks."

**Eyes**

Empty.

Her eyes were empty. There was no spark, nothing. Blank. Staring. Nothing.

The brilliant portal that had shone above vanished. And Buffy lay below, with empty eyes. Dead eyes.

That's when Spike snapped. He broke, shattered. Collapsed, sobbing on the ground.

He hadn't thought he even could cry.

But looking at her, broken and bloody...

There had to have been a way to save her. Something he could have done differently. Faster, stronger, smarter. Something.

He hadn't, though. There was nothing he could do now.

Buffy was dead.

Spike still was, too.

He hadn't really felt it until now.

**Horse**

Over his hundred-odd years, Spike had accumulated a lot of money. He had never found much use for it, until now.

Once Buffy finally accepted his offer of a date (after he returned from the re-dead), he began to shower her with gifts.

Anything she had ever mentioned wanting: Training machines, stylish and previously unaffordable boots - and a horse.

"I named 'er Anne," he said proudly. "After you, and me mum."

Buffy only gaped. "I-" Words failed her. She had ridden horses as a very little kid, just before her Dorothy Hamill phase.

She thanked him with a kiss.

**Blood**

With everything Spike and Buffy did, there were limits.

Scratches were fine, but nothing visible.

No handcuffs or ropes. Of any kind.

And above all: No drawing blood.

Buffy didn't trust him not to bite her. And if he bit her, she would have to stake him. The Scoobies would insist.

For all her talk, she didn't want to stake Spike. She liked his company - was even starting to like him.

It scared her. Liking another vampire? She must have been crazy.

So no blood. Blood was warm, and warmth had a whole other set of connotations.

No blood.

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**Review to warm my cold, dead author's heart!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Prompts: Cat, Dark, Dragon, Tea, Whisper**

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**Cat**

_"Kittens?"_ Buffy exclaimed. "You bet kittens?"

Spike snorted. "S'not like vamps can get jobs. And playing's no fun if there's no risk."

She shook her head in disgust. "I don't think trading the lives of kittens is-"

One of the other demons around the table piped up. "Spike, don't bring your girlfriend if she's just gonna complain."

The vampire dug his fingernails into his palm, grinding out, "She's not my girlfriend."

At the same time, Buffy said, "I'm not his girlfriend!" She shuddered at the thought, but it was really just for show. "And I'm leaving. Enjoy killing little creatures."

**Dark**

All that remained was the duster.

Buff hadn't worried about him until the demons started carrying stakes of their own, determined to stop the traitor vampire.

Even then, she never expected something to get to him.

But something always did, just like something always got the Slayer. Just like he had told her.

She thought about that day, what they had said; about how he hadn't loved her then, just wanted her. But he certainly did - had - now.

The dark duster was clutched to her chest. It was covered in dust, only clean where the tears had washed it away.

**Dragon**

William rushed across the field as fast as his horse could go. His love, Lady Buffy, had been captured by the vicious dragon Waurene, and he had to save her.

He dismounted at the dragon's cave, drawing his sword and charging in. "Waurene! Come out, you vile thing!" Footsteps echoed towards him. William almost dropped his sword in shock when Lady Buffy came into view, calmly wiping a broadsword on her ripped dress. "Buffy, I came to rescue you."

Buffy laughed. "I slay my own dragons, Sir William." She planted a kiss on his cheek. "But the effort is appreciated."

**Tea**

Buffy set the tea down on the table. "I think it's good this time!" She proclaimed.

Spike poured himself a cup, took a sip, and went into a coughing fit trying not to spit it out. "No. No. Absolutely not. God, this is terrible! What did you do to it, make it with piss and grass?" His wife scowled. "Sorry, luv."

"I've been married to a British man for a year; shouldn't I have magically developed tea-making skills by now?"

He laughed quietly. "I'll put on a proper kettle."

Buffy grumbled to herself as Spike headed back into the kitchen.

**Whisper**

He'd hear it sometimes. A whisper, a voice, that sounded like her.

Of course, she was dead. Not just dead, but gone.

But he had heard it still. Always when he was ready to leave them all for dead, or to go out running at noon.

_"I did it to save them."_

Could he really dishonor his memory like that? The bloody bot already mocked her, not as strong, not as clever, not as kind, not her. If even a single one of those idiots died, her death would be for nothing.

He had to at least let her live in them.

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**Better late than never, right? Mieux vaut tard que jamais! I threw in a hell of a lot of AUs cause why not. Review if you enjoyed!**


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